Hometown Cinderella: Hometown Cinderella\The Inn at Hope Springs (8 page)

Well, it hadn’t been meant to be so he might as well erase the scene from his head. He had work to do, and was glad for the young companion he’d been sent this afternoon.

Mara thought her legs would collapse under her when she finally climbed the last hill before their house. She was thirsty and warm despite the brisk fall air, her satchel felt as if it weighed fifty pounds instead of perhaps five and the soles of her feet ached.

She transferred the bag containing her sheet music and a metronome from one hand to the other for the dozenth time. She hadn’t known what to expect when she’d gone into town, but the shopkeeper, true to her word, had the names of local women lined up for Mara. She had visited each one and all had wanted piano lessons for their sons and daughters. Very few had had lessons previously, but at least all the families had pianos in their homes.

She sighed and began the trek down the last slope before the farmhouse. She’d already passed the Jakeman farmhouse. Smoke rose from its brick chimney but she had seen no one about.

Finally, she arrived at her long driveway. She didn’t see Dietrich and hoped he was already inside. Entering the woodshed, she didn’t hear anyone. As soon as she set down her satchel, she turned first toward the barn in search of Dietrich.

Paul was sweeping the stalls. “Hello, ma’am. I’ll be going home soon.”

“Yes. Is Dietrich around?”

“No, ma’am.” He paused and scratched his head. “Haven’t seen him all afternoon.”

Her heart began to thump. “He wasn’t with you?”

He shook his head. “Want me to look for him before I head home?”

She debated, but decided against it. His own family expected him and he was probably hungry. “No, I shall do so as soon as I ask Mrs. Blackstone.”

When she reentered the kitchen, she found Carina at the table, slicing bread. “There you are at last. What kept you so long?”

Mara untied the ribbons of her bonnet. “I had four families to visit and then the walk home.”

Carina raised an eyebrow. “Four? Indeed. Soon you’ll be making more money than your father left me to fend with.”

Wondering what her stepmother meant by the observation, she decided it was best to change the subject. “Has Dietrich come in yet?”

Carina made an unpleasant sound. “That boy? The way he runs wild, he could be all the way to Timbuktu.”

Mara gripped her hands together to keep back a sharp retort. “Did he return from school?”

Carina pursed her lips. “I don’t believe so.”

Mara began retying her bonnet. “I’m going to take a turn about the yard and see if I can find him. I shall be right back to fix supper.”

Carina merely sniffed.

Ignoring her tired feet, Mara began calling Dietrich’s name as soon as she reached the backyard. She walked past the kitchen garden and toward the apple orchard.

She looked in all the places she knew Dietrich liked to go—up in an oak tree, down by the brook, crossing the road and clambering down the path to the beach. But there was no sign of Dietrich.

Trying to keep her alarm in check, she glanced down the coastline, praying under her breath for direction. She thought about Dietrich’s excitement over the kittens at the Jakemans’. But she had seen no sign of him there. Besides, could he have gone off without telling anyone? The sun had set and Mara’s stomach was grumbling, but she hitched up her skirts and made her way up the beach path toward the road.

A quarter of an hour later, she was once more approaching the Jakemans’ place.

Golden light shone from a front window. She opened the gate of the white picket fence, bringing the immediate bark of a dog.

A second later, a large, shaggy black dog came bounding over to her.

“Down, boy,” she said, looking around, hoping to see someone come to her aid. “Hello!” she called out.

Both Mr. Jakeman and Dietrich emerged from the open barn door.

“Samson, down!”

At the stern command, the dog ran back to his master. Dietrich hurried to his mother. “Mama, come look at the kittens. Did you ask Mrs. Blackstone if I could bring one home?”

“I didn’t have a chance yet.” It had completely slipped her mind, if truth be told. She looked past her son to Mr. Jakeman, who was making his way more slowly toward her, the dog following at his heels.

Mr. Jakeman wore a vest over a collarless white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his forearms, as if he didn’t feel the cold night air. He inclined his head at her. “Good evening, ma’am. Hope Samson didn’t startle you.”

“Good evening, Mr. Jakeman. No, that’s all right. I just came looking for Dietrich.”

The dog sniffed at her hand.

Mr. Jakeman glanced at Dietrich. “See why it’s important for you to let someone know where you’re going?”

Dietrich hung his head.

Mara put her hand gently on his shoulder. “Didn’t you tell anyone you were coming here?”

Dietrich shook his head.

“I asked him as soon as he showed up. I would have sent him home sooner, but somehow the time got away from us. I’m sorry about that, ma’am.”

Her anger and worry dissipated. She was thankful that Dietrich was safe and in good company. “What have you two been up to?”

Dietrich tugged on her skirt. “Mr. Jakeman let me help him salt fish and feed the sow and the chickens and the turkeys—and pet the kittens. Come on, Mama, and see them.”

Mr. Jakeman chuckled and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “I guess you’d better come along.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him, keeping a firm hand on his dog.

Mara crouched beside Dietrich at a box lined with an old quilt. A large, dark gray cat with thick white fur around her neck stared at her, a half dozen kittens nursing at her.

“What a fine litter you have,” Mara crooned.

Dietrich touched one of the kittens, darker than the others. “This is the one I want. Please, may I have him?”

“What a fuzzy little fellow.” She reached out and barely touched the silky fur. “I don’t know yet, sweetheart.”

Finally, she rose. “You have a fine cat there.”

“It’s a Maine coon. No hurry deciding about the kittens. They’re too young to leave their mother yet.”

“Thank you.” She moved aside. “Well, we’d best be off. It’s been a long day and I still need to get his supper. Thank you so much for your patience.”

“Did you walk over?” Mr. Jakeman’s eyes scanned her features and she wondered how she appeared—windblown and haggard, no doubt.

“Yes, I just dashed back out as soon as I arrived home.”

He frowned, bringing his reddish-brown eyebrows close together. “You just came back from town?”

She smiled ruefully. “Yes.”

“I can give you a ride back home.”

She waved a hand. “Oh, no! It’s not a long walk—not like going to town.”

He said nothing more but followed her back outside.

Dietrich continued kneeling beside the kittens. “Come along, dear. I have a busy day tomorrow. Putting up the cranberries you were so thoughtful to send us yesterday,” she added with a shy smile at Mr. Jakeman.

“I didn’t mean to make more work for you.”

Her smile deepened at his look of contrition. “I appreciate the gift.”

At that moment, Lizzie emerged from the house, wiping her hands on an apron. “Hello, Mrs. Keller!”

Mara smiled with pleasure at the girl. “Hello, Lizzie. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“I saw you through the window and wanted to say hello. I would’a brought Dietrich home if I’d a known you’d have to come for him.”

“That’s all right. You’re probably getting supper, which is what I need to be doing right now.”

Lizzie’s cheeks filled with color and she shot a glance at her father. “That’s what I come out for—that is, to ask if you’d like to stay for supper with us.”

Dietrich pulled at his mother’s skirt. “May we, Mama?”

Mara felt her own cheeks grow warm. “Oh, no, I mean, I didn’t come for—” At the look of disappointment in the girl’s eyes, her heart constricted. She didn’t want Lizzie to feel she was rejecting her, but she knew she had to return home. Carina would expect her.

Before she could think what to say, Mr. Jakeman interjected, “Another time, perhaps.”

She smiled at him gratefully. He seemed to understand. “Yes,” she breathed out, “that would be lovely.”

Dietrich kicked at the hay in the barnyard.

“Lizzie, maybe you could go over after school and help Mrs. Keller with those cranberries.”

Lizzie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, could I?” Her glance went from her father’s to Mara’s. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Of course not, but I don’t mean for you to come and just do work.”

“It won’t seem like work.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

Lizzie nodded vigorously. “But please wait for me. I’ll run over just as school lets out.” She smiled. “I can bring Dietrich home for you.”

“Very well. That would be kind of you.”

Dietrich walked away from her. “I’m going to say goodbye to Samson.”

“We have to go, Dietrich.” But Dietrich bent over the dog and petted his black head.

Mr. Jakeman cleared his throat. “Thanks for the cake. It was delicious.”

Mara found herself blushing, and quickly turned away, taking Dietrich’s hand before he found something new to interest him. “Think nothing of it. Well, good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lizzie, if you are sure you can spare the time.” As she spoke, she sent a questioning look to both father and daughter.

Mr. Jakeman nodded slowly, saying softly, “It’ll be good for her.”

She stood regarding him a moment longer, trying to decipher his expression. It seemed a mixture of gratitude, kindness and concern. She spun on her heel before she could express something foolish with her own glance.

Chapter Six

L
izzie showed up at the kitchen door promptly the next afternoon, giggling and talking with Dietrich. Mara welcomed them inside, offering them milk and molasses cookies.

“How was school?” she asked as they washed up at the sink.

“Boring!”

“Fine!” came two simultaneous answers. Lizzie punched Dietrich lightly on the arm. “It was not boring. Just because you got in trouble for fidgeting so much at your desk and then pinching Sally’s arm.”

Mara frowned at her son. “What’s this about?”

Dietrich started scrubbing his hands hard.

Lizzie wiped her hands on the towel and smiled. “Nothing the other boys don’t do. Don’t worry, Miss Higgins knows how to keep them under control.”

“We’ll talk about this later, Dietrich.”

As they sat at the table eating their cookies and milk, Mara headed to the woodshed. “Let me ask Paul if he’d care for a snack.”

She came back a few moments later with the tall young man in tow. He wiped his feet on the doormat before stepping inside.

“Come, sit down with the children for a few minutes.” As soon as Mara said the words, she knew she’d erred. Lizzie’s face had taken on the shade of the crimson maple leaves littering the front yard.

She’d just taken a bite out of the large, soft cookie and at the sight of the young man coming up behind Mara, the girl whipped the cookie away from her mouth and scrubbed at her lips with her other hand.

To draw attention away from her, Mara ushered the boy toward the sink. “Here, wash the dirt off and then have some of my freshly baked cookies.”

“Uh, thanks, ma’am.” He shuffled his tall frame over to where Mara indicated.

Mara hid a smile at the awkwardness of youth as she bustled about getting a plate and napkin and pouring out a glass of milk from the pitcher, glad that Carina was out.

Paul sat at the opposite end of the table from Lizzie. Lizzie didn’t look at him, her fingers crumbling an edge of the cookie on her plate.

“So, you got a whuppin’ today at school, half-pint.” Paul leaned toward Dietrich, ruffling his hair with his large, work-roughened hand.

Dietrich swung his head out of Paul’s way. Mara hesitated, not wanting to interfere every time Dietrich needed defending. She knew it was important to let him fight his own battles. Nevertheless, her fingers curled into her palms as she forced a smile to her lips.

“Do you miss school, Paul?”

Paul blinked his hazel eyes at her. “School? Uh, no, ma’am.”

A snigger issued from Lizzie’s mouth but was quickly stifled by her hand.

Paul shot her a glance. “What? As if you’re such a smarty-pants. You’ll probably have to repeat the year.”

Her color rose again, her nostrils flaring. “Will not! I’m smarter than you by a long shot.”

“Yeah, teacher’s pet.”

To intervene without appearing to, Mara sat across from Dietrich. “Are you finishing your studies this year, Lizzie?”

Lizzie bobbed her head. “I graduate from grammar school at the end of this year.”

Mara turned to Paul. “When did you finish?”

“Last year.”

“Only ’cause he had to repeat the eighth grade three times.”

“I’m sure that is not true.”

Paul’s cheeks were about as ruddy as Lizzie’s had been a moment ago. “Yes, it is. I’m seventeen now, but didn’t graduate till this past year. I hated school.”

“So do I,” put in Dietrich. “And Miss Higgins is so mean.”

Mara frowned at her son. “I’m certain she’s not. She probably has her hands full trying to teach so many children so many things before she launches you all into the world.”

The children seemed to have nothing to say to that, concentrating instead on their cookies and milk.

“Would you like to continue your studies, Lizzie?”

“Papa wants me to.” Lizzie wrinkled her freckled nose. “I would if it didn’t mean having to go to the academy.”

“You mean the high school in town?”

She nodded. “I’d have to board with someone during the week.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad.”

“I don’t want to leave home…and Papa.”

Mara understood. Lizzie was her father’s housekeeper. A pity the girl was so tied down, though she understood perfectly. “I used to take care of my father, like you.”

Lizzie’s grayish-green eyes rounded. “Did you really?”

“Yes. I lost my mother quite young, the way I imagine you did. So, it was just my father and me. I enjoyed cooking and keeping house for him.”

Lizzie looked as if she were hanging on to every word. “Yes,” she breathed out. “Did you live in this house?”

Mara shook her head. “We lived in a town near Boston. It wasn’t until I was your age, Paul—” she turned to him to include him in the conversation “—that my father decided to move up here. He wanted to live by the coast, to paint it.”

“He was an artist, wasn’t he?” the boy asked. “I seen his paintings on the walls.”

“Yes, we still have a few of his paintings in the parlor. Most were sold, though,” she added sadly.

“Was he famous?” Lizzie asked.

“He became quite popular, but that was after years of struggling. For many years no one wanted to buy his paintings. But then came the day that it seemed he sold his paintings almost as soon as he put the last brushstroke on them.”

All three children were looking at her as if she were telling them a fairy story. She smiled and stood. “Well, I’ll let you finish your snack. I need to get to work boiling up these cranberries before they go bad.”

Lizzie stood immediately. “I’ll help you, ma’am. That’s why I came over.”

“Well, finish your milk and cookies. I’ll begin washing the berries.”

Paul stood and pushed his chair in. “Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. Keller. I’ll go back out and finish my work.” When he was at the door, he turned back. “My mother wanted to ask you if you’re coming over to our sociable on Friday evening. You’re welcome, she said to tell you.”

“I…I don’t know. But please give her my thanks. I’ll…I’ll see what Mrs. Blackstone plans.”

He bobbed his head and left the kitchen.

When Mara turned back to the bushel of cranberries, she found Lizzie staring at the kitchen door. So, it was that way, was it?

“Come, help me lift these into the sink.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

“Dietrich, why don’t you help Paul with his chores?”

“All right, Mama.” Wiping his mouth, he slipped from his chair and left the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

“We’ll have some quiet now,” Mara said, lifting the pump handle to get the water, glad once again that Carina was out for the afternoon.

As they washed and picked over the cranberries, she ventured, “What’s this sociable like?”

Lizzie shrugged. “Just the near neighbors getting together after supper at Cliff and Sarah McClellan’s, Pa’s cousins.”

“I imagine a lot of people are related to each other around here.”

Lizzie laughed. “Oh, yes. Most folks have kin in every household.”

They filled a large iron pot with berries and some water and put it on the stove. Mara checked the fire and added some sticks of wood. “I’ll get the sugar then we’ll let that simmer a bit. I think we can fill another pot as well.”

When the pots were on the cookstove, she returned to the subject. “So, what happens at the sociable?”

“Oh, people talk and maybe sing a little. Papa usually goes ’cause he plays the fiddle for dancing for the young folks.”

Mara smiled at her. “Are you going to try your hand at dancing this time?”

Lizzie turned away, hiding her face. “No…I don’t think so.”

“You’re young yet.”

“I’m almost fifteen!”

Mara chuckled. “That’s very young, though not too young to enjoy some jigs and reels.”

Lizzie stirred the pot with vigor. “Nobody’s going to want to dance with me anyway.”

Mara set out the jars for the sauce. “I don’t know about that. You’re a pretty girl and because you’re tall, you look older than fourteen.”

Lizzie’s wooden spoon stopped. “Do I really?”

“Yes. With your hair up, you’ll look sixteen.”

A look of expectancy lit her face. “Oh, Mrs. Keller, would you put my hair up for the sociable?”

Mara thought about how Paul’s presence had affected her. “You know what would be much nicer?”

She shook her head, sending her two braids swinging.

Mara touched an end of one of the red braids. “If you wore it loose, brushed out, with a ribbon tying the front ends back, like so.” As she spoke she illustrated with her hands. “Your hair has a natural curl to it which would look lovely.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose. “Wear it down? Wouldn’t that be too childish?”

“Not at all. You are a girl, yet, so don’t be in such a hurry to become a woman. The Bible says that a woman’s hair is her glory. When you get older it won’t be seemly to wear it loose. So, you should enjoy it now. It’s a beautiful color, rich and deep.”

Lizzie still looked doubtful. “But they call me carrottop at school.”

Mara smiled. “They just haven’t seen it all brushed out and hanging down to your waist with a pretty colored ribbon. Do you have a green gown?”

“I have a light green checked gingham.”

“Why don’t you wear that? And with a matching green ribbon tied at the back of your hair, you must stand straight and walk in unashamed, knowing the Lord gave you this beautiful shade of hair.”

The cranberries began to pop as they heated up. Lizzie stirred the pot again. “I don’t know, Mrs. Keller…”

Mara laughed. “Trust me. Now let me stir the other pot before it burns. How long should we let the berries cook?”

“A little bit longer. Once they’ve all popped then we’ll see if they’re sweet enough.”

Mara laughed. “I’m glad your father suggested you come by this afternoon. You’re the one who’s teaching me to make cranberry sauce.”

Lizzie tilted her head at her as Mara brought over the crock of sugar. “Haven’t you ever made any?”

“Not since I was about your age. I never had any in Europe, so I don’t know if they have cranberries over there. I never really had a kitchen of my own anyway.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened. “You didn’t?”

“No.” She poured out the sugar into a bowl and brought it to the stove. “How much shall we put in?”

“Oh, a few cups to each pot. We can taste it to make sure it’s sweet enough.”

Mara followed the girl’s instructions then stirred her own pot.

“What kind of houses did you live in over there?” Lizzie asked a few minutes later.

Mara recalled the various ones over her years touring the Continent with Klaus. “All kinds, but in the latter years, it was mainly boardinghouses. That’s what I meant by not having a kitchen of my own. We’d take our meals with the lady who ran the boardinghouse. Usually she was a widow who rented out rooms.”

“Did you like that?”

Mara considered her answer. It wouldn’t do to paint too dismal a portrait for this young girl. “Some were quite nice, others not so nice.” She turned away from the stove. “Tell me more about your life here. I lived here only briefly when I was eighteen and my father had just purchased this house. Do you find it lonely with just you and your father?”

“Not so much now. At first it was hard, having Mama gone, but now we’re so used to it, I guess we don’t think much about it.”

They worked in silence a while, stirring their bubbling pots.

Lizzie gave her a sidelong look. “C-could you show me how to walk, all graceful-like? So, that, you know…” her face turned a deep shade of pink once again “…young men will take a second look at me—and not just because they think I look funny.”

Mara touched her lightly on the elbow. “Of course, dear. Why don’t you come over a half hour or so earlier on the night of the sociable, and I’ll help you with your hair? Perhaps your father can fetch you on his way to the McClellans’?”

Lizzie’s generous mouth broke into a wide smile. “That would be wonderful. Oh, thank you, Mrs. Keller! And he can take you and Dietrich, too.”

Before Mara had a chance to reply, Carina came into the kitchen.

“Hello, Carina,” Mara said, taking the pot off the stove and placing it on a folded towel atop the table.

Carina looked in surprise at Lizzie and surveyed everything arrayed on the table and countertop. “Hello, Lizzie. I didn’t know you were coming over this afternoon.”

Lizzie nodded to her. “Hello, Mrs. Blackstone. Pa offered to have me help Mrs. Keller with putting up the cranberries.”

“Oh.” It was hard to interpret the single syllable. “How thoughtful of him. My, you seem to have a lot going on here.”

Lizzie smiled. “Yes, you’ll have enough jars to last you all winter.”

Carina smiled at the girl, leaving Mara amazed as always at how charming she could be with outsiders. “How nice of you to think of me.” She removed her hat and gloves. “Is it chilly out there! I think I shall fix myself a cup of tea before I offer to help you.”